


and these are the days that make a forever

by muchlessvermillion



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Absolutely no one is straight, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Awkward Conversations, But many of them are also visibly dating in the background, Coming Out, Date Night, Declan tries to be a good brother but kind of comes off like an asshole, Established Relationship, Feelings, Focus on Ronan's relationships to the others, Internalized Homophobia, Mentions of homophobia, Multi, Platonic Relationships, Polyamory, Post-Canon, Ronan says fuck a lot, True Love, romantic relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-29 20:16:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20802341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/muchlessvermillion/pseuds/muchlessvermillion
Summary: He was going to ask about his sexuality, Ronan realized. There were going to be murmured, half-meant phrases about if he was sure and if it was a phase and how long he had known and how quiet he could keep it so it wouldn't get back to Declan's social group. By the time Declan had opened his mouth, Ronan's hands were already white-knuckled at his sides, ready to punch or bolt, whichever instinct came first.However, what actually came out of Declan's mouth, low as to not be heard over the mumble of the dinner-rush crowd, wasn't what Ronan had been waiting to hear."When did you break up with Gansey?"Declan finds out Ronan is dating Adam. Declan then finds out Ronan is also dating just about everyone else. He has some questions.





	and these are the days that make a forever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [elliptical](https://archiveofourown.org/users/elliptical/gifts).

> This is kind of based on that one post (which I can't currently find but will link when I do!) that goes something like "I see all kind of theorized responses from Declan when Ronan tells him he and Adam are dating, from acceptance to fighting, but the true response is he asks when he and Gansey broke up". The thesis statement for this fic is: they didn't.

It would’ve been strange, if Ronan had been willing to take the time to think about it, how so much had changed in the world outside and yet Nino’s was still the exact fucking same. 

Cabeswater was gone, swallowed up impossibly into Gansey, which felt like fate and maybe actually was. It made an embarrassing sort of sense, that the forest Ronan had been dreaming since childhood would breathe life back into the boy that had seen all the worst of what he had to offer and stayed anyway. Like something in the world had known and waited, even though that sounded stupider than anything Ronan could ever voice aloud. 

Gansey had died and come back for the second (and, he promised, the last) time. Parrish had some sort of crazy psychic awakening, also heralded by Ronan’s dream forest, though the change didn’t seem to be leaving him now that Cabeswater was gone, and the other psychics they knew (though Ronan hated to admit he knew _ other psychics) _didn’t seem all that surprised. Sargent had been folded messily into their group and reshaped it more whole, sturdier than before. Cheng had -- well, he’d proven he was needed there after all, no matter how much Ronan had resisted the idea of any more interlopers in what was his. Another thing that was fate, or something like it. And Noah was… well, Noah was a whole other bag of fucking cats, wasn’t he, but he was currently something like alive, thanks to Gansey and Cabeswater and the women of 300 Fox Way, and meant to stay that way.

And despite all that shit, despite a year that Ronan prayed would be unlike any to follow, Nino’s was still Nino’s. Greasy and fluorescent, neon-spattered, littered with uniformed students that Ronan felt a thousand years beyond by now. He couldn’t even find it in himself to envy them for their idiocy. They were just a different species. Or maybe _ he _ was, and always had been. Something alien. But everyone Ronan held close were aliens, too, so maybe it had never really mattered. 

"What are _ you _ doing here so early?" Parrish asked, sliding into the booth next to him, his good ear on the side closest to Ronan's face. Ronan twisted in his seat to give him a vicious grin that didn't exactly waver when Adam slotted their fingers together under the table. Just a few months ago, Ronan might've scanned the room for watching eyes -- not because he was scared, but because he wasn't ready to deal with what it meant, for this to be visible. A couple months before that, he would've jerked his hand away and made a gay joke that he'd then laugh too loudly at, to prove it was funny. 

He didn't give a fuck, now. If God didn't want this, He shouldn't have put this much temptation in Ronan's direct line of sight. And yeah, okay, good Catholic boys resist, but no one had ever accused Ronan of being a _ good _ Catholic boy. They usually hardly got as far as _ Catholic_, even though that one was true. If God knows all, He should've been fully aware that Ronan wasn't gonna be any better than Eve was at staying away from forbidden fruit. 

Honestly, Ronan didn't give a shit anymore about which of his activities were or weren’t church-condoned. They'd beaten death. Predestined death, using methods that were as close to witchcraft as anything could get. (Maybe _ were _ witchcraft. He kinda tuned out when Blue or her moms started in on the magic shit. Less to confess later.) God could deal, even if Ronan’s priest couldn’t. 

"I'm plenty punctual," Ronan said. Adam snorted, but still let Ronan trace a thumb over one of his protruding knuckles without complaint. 

"You'll probably be late to your own damn funeral, Lynch," Adam retorted, as Ronan luxuriated in the warmth of him down his side. 

"If I _ have _ a funeral. I'm kinda thinking they'll never find most of my body, whenever I eventually kick it. Too many pieces, you know?" He brought a hand up to mime an explosion by his face. "If I go, I'm going out with a fucking _ boom._" 

"The hell do you mean, 'if you go'?" Adam shoved him with a shoulder. "We've had enough of the dead and undying, thanks. You'll die like a normal person of old age or something else mundane, or I'm diggin' you straight back up. God. I was just surprised you were here before Gansey, even. He wasn't your ride?"

"Spent the night at Sargent's," Ronan said. A grin curved on Adam's mouth, more uninhibited than his smiles had ever been when they first met. Ronan desperately wanted to kiss him, but that seemed a little much for Nino's sticky-floored aisles, at least without the rest of their group huddled around them like penguins in the cold, a barrier not even the loudest of Virginia bigots would dare to breach. 

(Even if they did, Ronan had no issue knocking their teeth out, fiercely sure of his victory, and even surer that he'd have back-up on all sides. Gansey could still hardly throw a punch and was more likely to spit out something icy in old-money vowels, using that tone of voice he had that brokered no argument and could get someone kicked out of just about any establishment, but he’d still help. Ronan had aged endlessly in the past year, but the fighting urge was yet to mellow.) 

"That's no excuse," Adam said, clearly pleased. "So did I." Ronan hid a grin behind his wrist, seizing his leather wristbands between his teeth. 

"Gross," he said, insincere. "You get more tutelage in how to _ deus ex machina _ the laws of physics from Sargent's weird-ass coven?" Adam shrugged, the stitched-together shape of his bony shoulders more elegant than they had a right to be.

"Maybe a little," he said, and Ronan was going to snark back, something about _ healing teas _ and _ magic crystals _ and whatever the fuck Orla does with men on the phone, but before he could manage it, there was a hand digging firm into the shoulder furthest from Adam. 

"Ronan," came Declan's familiar voice, as smoothly polished as ever, deceptively light for the grip he had on Ronan's arm. "What a lovely surprise to see you here. Could you spare a moment to speak with me?" Ronan didn't bother to turn, and he fought the urge to unravel his hand from Adam's. He'd never 'come out' to Declan, in part because he'd never come out to anybody, and in part because it was none of his damn business -- but the idea of him seeing and the potential fallout still made something in Ronan go sick and cold. He was determined not to let that something win. 

"No," he said, in a tone that meant _ fuck off. _ He and Declan weren't as quick to blows as they had once been, but that didn't mean he was going to drop everything for a chat in the back of a pizza place just because his brother had turned up at an inopportune time. 

"It's important," Declan urged, and something in his voice sounded almost genuine. He leaned a little closer, probably to flash a politician's smile at Adam over Ronan's buzzed head. "I don't mean to interrupt, but I really do need to talk with my brother." _ Matthew_, Ronan thought, suddenly, and his stomach clenched. 

"You have two minutes," he warned, and clambered over Adam --who squeezed his wrist as he went-- and out of the booth. He marched to the far side of the restaurant, near the door, with the assumption that Declan would follow. 

Declan did. When he touched Ronan again, Ronan whirled around to shoot him with the most venomous stare he could muster. 

But Delcan's brows were curved inward, his face marked by concern more than annoyance, which caught Ronan so off-guard all at once that he no longer knew what to do with his hands. 

He was going to ask about his sexuality, Ronan realized. There were going to be murmured, half-meant phrases about if he was sure and if it was a phase and how long he had known and how quiet he could keep it so it wouldn't get back to Declan's social group. By the time Declan had opened his mouth, Ronan's hands were already white-knuckled at his sides, ready to punch or bolt, whichever instinct came first. 

However, what actually came out of Declan's mouth, low as to not be heard over the mumble of the dinner-rush crowd, wasn't what Ronan had been waiting to hear. 

"When did you break up with Gansey?" 

"_What__?_" Ronan asked, so flummoxed it hardly came out a question. 

“Gansey,” Declan repeated, like Ronan was brain damaged. “When did things end with him? Are you -- well, you _ look _ alright, I think, but it’s always hard to tell.” 

“You know about me and Gansey?” Ronan hissed, because that seemed important to establish right off the bat.

“Was it meant to be a secret?” Declan volleyed back, his dark eyebrows high on his forehead. Ronan felt distinctly uncomfortable, like he’d been zipped wrong into his skin. His eyes sought the back of Adam’s head. At their near-empty six person booth, he was deliberately studying the plastic menu, as if he didn’t already know everything Nino’s served. 

Ronan considered the question. It wasn’t so much meant to be a secret as it was something he had assumed wouldn’t be known by anyone outside of their group of six, and especially not by Declan. Apparently that assumption had been wrong. Ronan shook his head in response, brow furrowed, still not sure exactly what was going on here. “Right,” Declan continued, nodding like he had confirmed his own hypothesis. “So when did it end?”

“It didn’t,” Ronan admitted, his fingers flexing at his sides just for something to do with them. This was fucking weird. Like, Twilight Zone bizarre. Those black and white pseudo-psychological scares had nothing on his brother inexplicably interrogating him on his love life. 

Declan’s mouth fell open for a moment before he pulled himself back together, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at Parrish’s back. The worried eyebrows were back in full force, and he stepped closer to Ronan, his voice pitching somehow both more quietly and more piercing under the din. 

_ “Does Gansey know?” _ Declan hissed, and Ronan abruptly felt that he was starting to catch on. 

The tinny bell above Nino’s front entrance dinged behind them, and Declan smoothed himself out all at once, from the creases in his face to the ones in his clothing, his expression going even more blankly agreeable than Ronan would expect him to bother with.

“Ronan!” Gansey called from the doorway, jovial, and Ronan couldn’t stop the smile that twisted his mouth when he turned to see him, looking boyish and alive with his hair mussed in a way he would have been self-conscious about before, one of his hands twined with one of Sargent’s. Then Gansey caught sight of Declan, and schooled himself into something more distant. Ronan missed the real, open smile he’d been wearing immediately. “Declan,” Gansey added, with a carefully pleasant nod. “What a surprise.” Ronan twisted to watch Declan’s gaze catch on Gansey and Sargent’s knotted fingers. 

_ Oh, _ Ronan realized, with a rush of malicious delight. _ This is so much better than a gay talk. _

“Gansey,” he said, bright, and that was all the warning he gave before he was leaning down to press a hard kiss to his mouth. The sound of Declan sputtering behind him was good enough erase any nerves he had felt earlier about kissing Parrish, especially with Sargent close by enough to throw a punch. It was possible there’d be repercussions for this. None of them seemed important enough to stop, especially with the end of the summer riding close and the rest of their lives together sprawling before them like a never-ending highway, most of the roads leading out of Henrietta. 

They’d take different routes on the way, maybe, but they’d all come back together, every single time. 

“Oh,” Gansey breathed, when Ronan pulled back, sounding quietly pleased. His eyes (a little glazed, even from that, and Ronan would never get tired of it, no matter how many times he got to kiss him) darted to Declan and back. “Are we-- I mean, I’d thought--”

“Gansey,” Ronan interrupted, and he was trying for scolding, for offended, but couldn’t keep the mirth out of his voice. “All this time you’ve been _ cheating on me_? With _ Sargent? _” 

“What,” Gansey said, all confusion, pushing his glasses up his nose with a finger. He looked genuinely worried, for an instant. “Ronan, you know we--” 

“Yeah,” Blue interjected. Gansey fell silent, looking at her curiously. A smile was growing, impish, on her purple painted lips. They didn’t match the glittery orange eyeshadow she’d smeared on her cheeks, or anything else in her outfit, which seemed to mostly consist of neon rainbow socks that went so high on her legs that they disappeared under the hem of her ripped jean shorts and shone through the holes like a beacon. Ronan wasn’t much for fashion, especially not on women, but Blue was garish in a way he could at least appreciate. (He was pretty sure the faded black band shirt she had on had once been one of his, actually, before it got too shredded to count as clothing. She had threaded ribbon down the sides and cinched it in the middle, but it still hung off her, overlong and too wide altogether. There were holes in the shoulders from Chainsaw’s talons, and for an instant Ronan regretted leaving her at the Barns to keep Opal company.) “I’m so sorry you had to find out this way,” Blue continued, and Ronan smirked back at her. Atta girl. “I know how hard it must be.” She breezed past them, then, tugging Gansey by the hand, and met Ronan in a fistbump on the way with an ease born of practice. 

Declan turned to trace their progress through the restaurant. Ronan was delighted to see Blue take up immediate residence on Adam’s lap when she reached the table, an act that made Declan swivel again to face Ronan, his face gone slightly pale and his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish. 

Ronan would have done this _ so much sooner _ if he’d known what kind of reaction he’d get. It wasn’t often Declan was speechless. He usually started to say something _ , _even if he couldn’t manage to finish the sentence because Ronan had stolen the right words out from under him. Ronan took a moment to enjoy it; the unwilling silence, Declan’s plain confusion, too flat-footed to even pretend he knew what was going on. He knew it wouldn’t last long. 

It didn’t. 

“What--” Declan began, and then stopped, like he wasn’t sure what question he was trying to ask. He took a moment to attempt to compose himself. They had run over Ronan’s two minute limit, but he was enjoying himself too much to cut it short while Declan was still floundering. “_What_,” Declan tried again, “exactly is going on here?” 

He looked very much, Ronan thought, like he was trying to assess whether or not Ronan was fucking with him, and calculating the likelihood of all of Ronan’s friends being in on it. Ronan _ was _ fucking with him, but probably not in the way Declan was considering. 

“What does it look like?” Ronan asked, with a leer. 

“I don’t know what it looks like,” Declan admitted, his voice harsh. Harsher than intended, apparently, because he immediately took a deep breath, eyes darting up like he was praying for patience. That was one miracle heaven clearly wasn’t intending to grant; Ronan had seen him pull the same move a hundred times before, and it had never helped any. 

“I think you might have some idea,” Ronan replied, and he didn’t even have to fake the urge to stare past Declan to where the others were seated, half a crew assembled and waiting for another three. Adam and Gansey looked to be kicking each other under the table, which Ronan knew would devolve into playing footsie before long. Blue, still perched on Adam’s legs, was attempting to blow the remains of a straw wrapper at Gansey’s face. Ronan ached with fierce protectiveness for all of them, even Noah who hadn’t shown yet, even Cheng, a blooming pride that huddled under his ribcage like a deep bruise. 

“It looks like everyone you know missed the abstinence section of sophomore health,” Declan grumbled, pinching the bridge of his nose like he did when he was headed for a tension headache. Ronan gave a rough snort.

“Like you’re one to talk.” 

“Well, that’s another thing I don’t understand,” Declan exclaimed, forgetting for a moment to be inconspicuous. “Ronan, you have given me _ so much shit _ for dating around. Maybe not verbally, that’s not your style, but the _ looks _ that I, and any woman I am with, have been on the receiving end of could turn sand to glass. I _ know _ you disapprove of casual relationships.” 

“S’different,” Ronan muttered.

“How, exactly?” 

This _ wasn’t _ casual, was the answer, and his issue wasn’t with more than one partner but with relationships that didn’t matter, things you went through like cheap tissue and didn’t care one way or another about, dating just for the sake of it, dating just for a person to be with -- but like hell was Ronan going to explain that to Declan.

“It’s not the same,” Ronan insisted, and his eyes drifted to the table again without any input from his brain. Gansey was laughing, full and real, and from the sly little smile on Adam’s face, he had been the cause. Like she could feel his gaze, Blue turned and gave him an exaggerated, showy eye roll that could have been about anything -- Declan, whatever Gansey was giggling over, Adam’s shitty jokes, Ronan himself, Nino’s shit service since she quit. Ronan snorted, even though he was aware of Declan’s eyes on him, probably analyzing the hell out of this interaction using whatever bullshit parameters he used for risk-assessment. When Ronan looked back, Declan was heaving a sigh so dramatic it belonged on a telenovela.

“Are you sure they’re committed to it?” he asked, finally. “They have your best interests in mind?”

“What the fuck is _ that _ supposed to mean?” Ronan demanded. 

“It _ means _ that I know you. You devote yourself to things. You throw yourself into them. Aside from Gansey, who is frankly just as stupid, I hardly know these people. How am I supposed to be sure this is a good idea, isn’t some new way you’ve concocted of ruining your life?” 

Ronan scowled. Normally he didn’t mind Declan being wrong -- he did it so often, after all. Ronan would have no time for anything else if he spent all his time refuting that bullshit. But Declan didn’t get to make dumb assumptions. Not about this. 

Declan wanted to talk about commitment, devotion, loyalty? Declan didn’t know what that shit _ meant_. Not like they did. What form of commitment could possibly surpass how willing they all were to die to keep each other safe? In what world was Ronan ever going to find something like this somewhere else? 

“Not that it’s any of your _ fucking _ business, but _ I _ know these people. You don’t have to. And if I want to make my own stupid fucking adult decisions and ruin my own stupid fucking life, that’s my prerogative. But I’m sure you’ll be thrilled to know that they’re all just as obnoxiously concerned and helpful as Gansey is, so you can fuck right off and stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong -- not that it would be your problem if they were the worst people in the world. Worry about your own shit. Maybe take a look at that girlfriend of yours, if you’re searching for commitment issues.” 

The air between them tensed. Ronan was breathing hard. Declan’s jaw was clenched so tight it looked like he might snap a tooth. For a moment, Ronan felt a hot flicker of regret, but nothing strong enough to make him take it back, even if Declan did look like he was gearing up for a worse tirade, something that would probably use the words ‘responsibility’ and ‘future’ and try to impose guilt on Ronan for the plight of the poor maligned eldest son. 

“Hi,” said a voice from behind Ronan, and then a sharp, cold chin was digging into his shoulder, and the moment passed.

“Jesus _ Christ_,” Declan blasphemed, jolting. “Where did you come from?” 

“Hey,” Ronan said, tilting back so Noah didn’t have to go so far up on his toes to reach. “Watch your language.” The look Declan shot him was acidic, and Ronan’s knife-sharp grin spread further. 

“Sorry,” Declan said, decidedly to Noah and not to Ronan. “I didn’t hear the door open. You surprised me.”

“And he came from your front, too,” Ronan chastised, thoroughly pleased that being mostly-not-dead hadn’t cured Noah of his habit of popping up out of nowhere. He probably did it on purpose, the little shit. 

“Oops,” Noah said brightly, not sounding sorry at all, and then edged out from behind Ronan for the sole apparent purpose of flashing him a blinding smile. He was wearing an open-sided muscle shirt with approximately the same colors and intensity as a parrot, and a pair of jeans with flower-patterned patches that Ronan was pretty sure he’d stolen from Blue. After so long in that Aglionby uniform, Noah had been making a concentrated effort to wear whatever that resembled it as little as possible. 

It definitely made him easy to find in a crowd; on any given day he resembled a pack of highlighters. 

_ Fuck it_, Ronan thought, and swung his arm around Noah’s shoulders, yanking him close by the neck and making an immediate mess of his hair. Noah cackled, squirming only the requisite amount to make a show of being the unwilling victim. He shoved an elbow into Ronan’s side, stamping his glittery sneakers on the linoleum so hard they left a trail.

Declan didn’t look impressed. 

“Not fair!” Noah complained, still not ducking out from Ronan’s grip. “You don’t _ have _ a hairstyle to ruin.” 

“Neither do you, really,” Ronan teased, just to hear Noah’s affronted ‘hey!’ 

“Is there a reason you’re not sitting?” Noah asked, when he was done being thoroughly noogied. His cheeks were flushed, now, and his hair tousled, all signs of mostly-life that made Ronan’s gut clench. 

“Nah,” he drawled in response. “Go on.” He let go, gave Noah a little shove in the right direction. “I’ll be right over.” 

Noah considered this for a second, his eyes darting between Declan and Ronan. 

And then he stepped close, pressed a loud, smacking kiss to Ronan’s cheek, and scurried towards the table with a shit-eating grin on his face. Ronan’s grin rose to match, and Declan looked just about ready to resign from all brotherly responsibilities for the rest of time. 

“Okay,” he said, and pressed his fingers to his temples. “Okay, I’m sorry. I’m trying to be supportive. I’m glad you’re -- well, I’m certainly glad you didn’t break up with Gansey, I’d hate to pick up the pieces of that. Just try to be careful.” 

“Fine,” Ronan said, even though he absolutely wasn’t going to change a thing. He was being plenty careful already. 

“Is there anyone you are _ not _ dating?” Declan asked, with a desperate exasperation but significantly more softness. Curiosity, not accusation. It was easier than Ronan had expected to get back here, and he tried not to let it make him too suspicious. “Who are you not dating?” 

Ronan wondered if he was making a list in his head, getting ready to pay for a full set of background checks on everyone but Gansey. 

He’d get some really weird shit back, if he tried that on Noah. 

“Not dating Blue,” Ronan answered, honestly, sliding his hands into his jean pockets. 

“Oh my god,” Declan said. 

“Because that would be weird as fuck,” Ronan added. 

“I guess it would,” Declan admitted, to his surprise, and Ronan arched one sharp eyebrow in his direction. “Okay,” Declan continued, after a quiet moment. “You’re okay?”

“...Yeah,” Ronan said. 

“Good,” Declan responded, nodding to himself. “Okay. Good to know. I do wish I didn’t have to find out via information bombardment in a pizza parlor--”

“Hey,” Ronan interrupted. “You brought this on yourself. You could’ve just left me and Parrish be and asked me about my horrible breakup with Gansey later. I mean, I probably wouldn’t have answered, but you’d have choked on your own foot less.” 

Declan did that parentally disapproving frown Ronan hated, the one he probably practiced in the mirror, but then relented anyway.

“I suppose I did bring it upon myself. Slightly.” 

Wonders really did never cease. 

The overhead bell chimed. 

"Ronan!" Cheng exclaimed, as he waltzed through Nino's front door. "If it isn't my favorite dick." Ronan grunted in response.

"Your favorite Dick's over there, Cheng, don't get it twisted." Henry gave him a sunny smile and made a beeline to the others at the table, thumping Ronan amiably on the arm as he passed.

"Not _ Henry Cheng_," Declan said, looking a little pale again.

"No," Ronan agreed. "Not dating him." Declan looked like something was finally, at last, making sense in this night, which only added to Ronan's glee when he added; "Gansey is, though." Czerny might’ve been heading in that direction, too, but nothing was confirmed, so Declan really didn’t need to know. “We done here?” 

“Is _anyone _ in your little group straight?” Declan asked, as Ronan started to leave. “Just that girl?”

“Her name’s Blue,” Ronan responded, “And absolutely fucking not. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a date night to get back to.” 

When Ronan finally got back to his table, everyone’s heads were bent, watching as Noah made wildly inaccurate guesses at reading Adam’s palm. Blue was making a little tsk noise with her tongue every time he came up with an obviously fake name for something, and Adam had his lower lip caught between his teeth like it would hold back the laugh that was already shaking in his gut. Gansey’s head shot up, like he’d been waiting, and he beamed, looking for all the world like he was genuinely thrilled to see Ronan again, even though they’d only been apart for a few minutes. 

“He’s back!” he announced, and the whole group scooted and scooched to fit him in, until he was sandwiched between Adam and Blue, Adam’s hand back in his. Gansey unsubtly knocked his legs into Ronan's under the table, and left them there. Cheng had one arm slung behind Gansey’s head, and he had relinquished the other to Noah’s continuing bad divination efforts, staring openly at Noah’s face as Noah examined his hand. As Noah traced a line on Cheng’s wrist that definitely didn’t exist, he glanced up at Ronan, practically sparkling with mischief, and offered him a smile so private it made Ronan a little dizzy. 

He loved them all so much it hurt, both individually and as the wild, messy constellation they made up, the way they loved each other before his eyes. It burned in his breastbone, constant, unflagging, present even for Sargent and Cheng, and that wasn’t even romantic. It was more than anything he’d ever expected or thought he could deserve, went against everything he’d ever been told about what this would look like, feel like. 

Ronan was pretty sure if he kept being this happy long-term, it was going to ruin his reputation. He was pretty sure it already had. 

And he was pretty fucking fine with that.

**Author's Note:**

> They are all in love with each other and every TRC work I ever do, no matter what section of relationships or characters it focuses on, will have that at least in the background, because I'm very gay for it and must be true to myself. 
> 
> I have SO many ideas in this or similar veins, some of which I've had for years, from series to sprawling chaptered aus to oneshots. The fact that this is my first TRC fic is a testament to my own self restraint. There will be more of them.


End file.
